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Your Choices, Not Mine

It ultimately did, and the restrictions of her hand; bounded behind by thickened ropes, sent more torrents of perplexity raining down her soul.

“What's…”

“… Happening!” The voice she heard before her consciousness choicelessly left her once more penetrated into Francess' ears from a different direction. Sharply, she glanced at one of the wings of the stage, and emerging from there was… Her family.

The entirety of the D'Arcy were here.

All donned such elegant clothing yet the atmosphere lingering around two out of three was questionable. While Francisco perpetually had a smirk dancing on his lips, and a printed document in his possession, Killian with his wife were unsettled.

Unsurprisingly, Stephanie — her ever anxious mother would've slacked behind, but her husband's linked arm with hers prevented that.

He ambled, head up, and eyes — which roamed with determination, tangled with a bit of regret were transfixed on his daughter.

“What the fuck is going on here? What in hell's name
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